When I was in 4th grade, our art teacher told us to pick a work of art by a famous artist and copy it.
The girl next to me chose the Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci.
“Are you sure you want to copy that?” I asked.
“I like it,” she said. I looked at the image askance. I knew of its fame. I also knew, from previous joint projects, that although Mimi may have had good taste in art, she had a particularly difficult time with both gross and fine motor skills, which resulted in poor letter formation, poor scissors usage, and generally being picked last in gym. I didn’t try to explain to her why she might not want to attempt the Mona Lisa.
I, on the other hand, learned to read and write early. I knew my letters were lovely. I could cut a perfect curve with scissors. In addition, I had great skill with a ruler. This was to my benefit, as I had suddenly become a huge fan of Piet Mondrain. Straight lines! Bold colors! Nothing simpler. I knew my limits.
Now, 42 years later, my own child is in 4th grade, learning on his own about the great artist, Piet Mondrain. It came about this way.
Akiva was building Lego cars inspired by an old pamphlet he found. The wheels of the cars fit perfectly into Matchbox-size race car tracks. “Build one that will smash to bits when it crashes, and we can film it in slow motion,” I suggested. A few minutes later he returned with what has become my favorite of all his cars: Piet.
As for Mimi and the Mona Lisa? The paint on her board blurred to a muddy green-brown mingled with tears.
“I should have done what you did,” she sobbed.
I said nothing.
I did not know what to say.
